


Pipe smoke and liquid courage

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:40:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5234471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina enters the tavern, and it takes longer than she'd like for her to find her way to the man with the lion tattoo's table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pipe smoke and liquid courage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadeddiva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadeddiva/gifts).



> What little OUAT fic I've ever written before has been Gremma, and it has been very little, so here's my first real offering!
> 
> (This is also little, but uh, consider it an experiment)

Step through the door. 

* * *

Here, in the tavern, there is a sort of smoke that is not the sort of smoke you know - not from peat smoke or burning pine, not from whispey magics or deep enchantments, but from dried leaves folded into pipes, and the cheap, fatty candles that have never been of the sort of quality your mother would ever allow in the house. 

There are many things your mother would not allow. This is one of them, you know, and that makes you brave.

* * *

_Tattoos are so common_ , Mother’s voice rings in your ears, but there is something in the play of the tendons and muscles under two-toned skin that moves you, somehow. You wonder what made him choose a lion, if it is a family crest, or the coat of arms of his hometown, or if there is something else that made him choose such a fierce, rare animal.

Perhaps he is fierce and rare, in some way. You would like that, you think, like a chance at adventure with someone strong enough to keep up with you. 

* * *

How would a lioness look against  _your_  skin, you wonder, black against gold, proud and hungry and strong. 

A reflection of yourself or a reflection of your desires? Worse, might it be a reflection of  _him,_ and while you do want all that he represents, you don’t have any desire to become  _his._

So no, not a lioness. An apple, perhaps, or the spreading branches of an apple tree. A glowing heart, or… 

None of that, either. You don’t know what you’d like enough to have it printed on your body forever, but that isn’t important right now. You’re trying to stop yourself from stepping forward, sabotaging your own happiness in some small way for reasons you’ve never understood. 

Perhaps it’s Mother’s influence. She has always had a talent for sabotage.

* * *

From this close - from just the next table, because that is as close as your courage has taken you - his ears stick out, and he could do with either growing out his beard or shaving properly. 

But there is something, bright in his eyes or warm in his smile, or in the way he laughs with his men. You were never allowed to have a closeness like that, friendship and joy, because it did not suit Mother’s plan, but perhaps…

Is that what  _happiness_  looks like? You’re not sure you know, not anymore.

* * *

“My lady,” he says, when you finally approach his table, liquid courage leaving you warm and stubborn refusal to back down from a course of action making you brave, braver than any liquor or  _beer_  might. “Can I help you?”

“My name is Regina,” you say, sitting down opposite him in the space you assume his men will make. “And I’d like something to drink. Something  _nice.”_

His smile is bright, and warm, and just a little teasing in a way that you’ve lost, since Daniel.

“My name is Robin,” he says, “and I suppose you’ve just made it my round, haven’t you?”


End file.
